Sick for the Photo

We had driven all night. Tired, cramped, and ready to arrive at our destination. So when we stopped for gas in Flagler, CO we needed a little more time out of the van than simply to fill up with gas. As we filled up, my brother wandered off down the road and found a little park down the road, which was about the only thing in that direction. So we loaded up in the van once more to experience the wonder of Flagler's city park.

It wasn't much to look at, but we were glad to be out of the van. There was a big, spiral slide, which we used for a family photo op, those metal horses that rock on springs and, my favorite childhood piece of playground equipment, the merry-go-round. So with camera in hand, I imagined a striking photo with a blurred background and an in-focus subject. With this in mind, my brother hopped on with me and the others started spinning.

At first it was great, I held up my camera with the aperture closed and the shutter speed slow, but as we spun around and around, I became less and less comfortable. My equilibrium was thrown off, my stomach turned, and this fun ride had to end quickly. When they had stopped us from spinning due to my shouts of distress, I jumped off and tried to stay as still as possible. I don't think I have ever been that close to throwing up and not doing so before or since. The worst part was I stayed sick for the next hour and a half, but I got a pretty good looking shot. It just goes to show, sometimes your personal well being might suffer a little to get a good shot.

On the Merry-Go-Round, Flagler, CO
38mm, f/29, 1/25 sec

What Has Been Keeping Me Away

I realize that there has been quite a long silence between my last post and this one, so I feel it is only courteous for me to introduce her to everyone. This is my daughter Ayla Joy. She interrupts my sleep, sometimes screams without reason, perplexes me often and brings an incredible amount of joy to my life. She has flipped my world upside-down and I will never be the same because of her. She grows like a weed (already) and sleeps whenever she wants. And even though I could write about all of her little sighs, groans, cries and other noises, I realize that it would bore most people because she is not their daughter. And let's face it, many of those things are only interesting to the ones who also see the screaming, tears and fussing. So I will try to keep my musings about how darn cute my daughter is to a minimum. Instead, I will try to give insight to those who don't have children and a reminder of the wonder that accompanies kids to those who already have them.

This photo was taken just a few weeks after she was born. I can't go any further without thanking Rebekah Pope and Barbie Schwartz. I previously worked with both of them and they were kind enough to let me bring my camera during a photo session at Rebekah's studio. Be sure you check out their work.

Ayla in Her Mother's Hands

Wrapping Up the Day

The stalls are empty and the gawking tourists have all headed back to their hotel rooms. The fish has been put away and there is no longer salmon flying from one end of Pike Place Fish Market to the other. Considering this is one of Seattle's most famous tourist attractions, it is eerily silent and abandoned. We had driven straight here from Oregon, but had not arrived early enough to see the daily festivities. So we took our time and looked around before getting back on the road and heading north.

One of the only guys left was on the other side of a gate which notified us to the off-limits areas of the market. I assume he was a security guard, most likely recovering from a day of watching for shoplifters and answering pesky directional questions of lost tourists. For the first time all day long, he wasn't surrounded by people and was able to simply look out at the water. The allure of the market had faded a long time ago, becoming a regular part of his day as opposed to fun stop during vacation. Sure there are thousands of people who travel to visit his workplace every year, but to him it is good to know his shift is about over and his tourism filled day is about to be over.

Wrapping Up the Day, Seattle, WA

Streams of Water

I was a kid that day in Chicago, IL. It was a fun little day trip our family had taken. We took in the sights: Michigan Ave., Niketown, the Hancock building, and finally, Navy Pier. As we strolled back down the length of the man-made isthmus, we passed through an interior garden area. The plants were beautiful, but that was not what captured my attention. Arching over the pathways which crisscrossed the botanical floor were jets of water shot from one green island to the next.

What made these streams of water so interesting to me was their uniformity and compactness. It seemed to me that clear tubing was arching over the pathway and water was simply being piped through it. So what did I do? Touch it, of course. And what did I find out? That water, when interrupted from its original path, will spray in many directions.

I have pulled a few lessons from this. First, it is normal for children not only to watch, but also to touch in order to find out how things work. And second, water fountains are simple, but highly effective at captivating the attention of youngsters.

How is it that one of the most basic compounds on the planet can be so enthralling to wide-eyed children everywhere. Sprinklers, fountains, water hoses; there is never a sad kid in sight of these things. So when it gets down to it; who cares why kids are so happy about running through sprinklers in the front lawn. The real question is...why aren't we out there with them?

The following picture was taken in Charleston, SC. Though I am no longer a kid, I still enjoyed watching it.

18mm, f/4.5, 1/8000 sec
The Fountain, Charleston, SC

Streams of Light

I enjoy photography while I am hiking. First of all, creativity seems to come a little easier for me when I am walking through woods where sound is hampered by the surrounding foliage. You can think a little more clearly and slowly than when sound is coming at you unhindered and from all sides. Another plus to the woods, is the lighting. The streams of light come down in sporadic places, ever changing as the sun progresses through the sky. So if you took a picture of the same location a few minutes apart, you would get a totally different lighting scheme to the scene. There have been plenty of shots I have missed because I didn't get my camera out quick enough. By the time I was ready, the light had shifted and the shot was gone.

In the shot below, you can see how a shaft of light has lit up my father-in-law's back while the woods just past him are completely black. I like the stark contrast of the picture and also the colors that are brought out by the direct sunlight. Thank goodness for the uneven light of the woods.

Light on the Back, Appalachian Trail, TN

A Day in the Park

Even though the seasons are progressing and, in some areas, it might be a little too cold, I still offer my highest recommendation to go to the park. About a month ago, my wife and I went. The breeze was cooling and the sun was warming, it was the dual sensations I think that made it so enjoyable. Almost as if the sun and the breeze are competing against each other, but unknowingly complementing each other.

We were there for only a short while, but we sat, read, laughed, and talked about what we were reading, the rapidly approaching baby, or simply the fact that it was a very wise decision to come out that day. There was no agenda and nothing we had to race back for. We simply enjoyed ourselves and, when we were ready, packed everything up and headed home.

So today's post is not deep, but rather and exhortation. Get out, enjoy yourself, and leave your watch at home.

Soaking Up the Sun, Pinkerton Park, Franklin, TN

The Quiet One

The van was packed with four adults and five children all on our way home from church. The adults were tired, four children were energized and one little girl was taking it all in. I don't know why she was so quiet, but I could tell she was entirely content to watch myself and my co-photographer snap pictures and entertain the other children with the immediate playback features of our cameras.

Then it came. A rare moment where the other children were distracted and she looked directly at me. Not posing, but rather happy to stare at someone new to her sphere of acquaintances. In that instance, the gleeful screams of the other kids and the reprimands of the adults all fell away. It was odd, we connected through the lens of my D70 for a 1/50 sec. and for once, the quiet one received the attention.

This photo was taken my senior year of college during my 'Social Documentary' class. We were assigned to photograph families' lives who were helped my a non-profit in town. We received Miss Ruthie and in doing so, came into contact with the beautiful children she cared for. It has been my favorite assignment.

The Quiet One, Jackson, TN

Viewing Through the Canopy

I love looking at the stars. To quote Switchfoot, "when I look at the stars, I see someone else." I am not writing this to get into an evolution vs. intelligent design debate; I am simply stating the overwhelming effect of viewing the celestial bodies.

And it was no different this night, looking up at the expanse of darkness dotted with pinholes. It was the same as usual, except for the canopy of trees narrowing the viewing screen. The trees surrounding our campsite rose beside us, then leaned over top, claiming us as its inhabitants. And though I could have let it frustrate me, I actually enjoyed the combination of terrestrial and celestial creations from the same vantage point. It was as though the sky didn't want its expanse entirely revealed to us, as if it was holding back some of its treasures for another night at some other place. The trees, more than willing to fulfill the request of the stars, stood sentinel, illuminated by the campfire below.

That night, I gazed upward, through the small window allowed me. Even though I have viewed fully the array of stars in the heavens, my interests were piqued once more by the anticipation of what lay beyond those trees.

This photo was taken at Montgomery Bell State Park in Tennessee. My wife and I were enjoying the stars allowed to us and awaited another time to view the rest. (If your screen is too dark to view the stars through the canopy, try adjusting the brightness, you should be able to view them.)

18 mm, f/3.5, 30 sec

Stars Through the Canopy, Montgomery Bell State Park

Don't Take Yourself Too Seriously

While my wife and I were still dating, we made a trip up to Bloomington, IL to see my family. While driving we talked, laughed, argued, sang and pretty much had an all-around jovial time. As is evidenced by the photo that follows, we were very willing to take silly photos and, strangely enough, are just as willing to broadcast it for all to see. This photo most likely does not mean much to anyone else beside my wife and me, but I wanted to display it simply for the reason that we should not take ourselves very seriously.

Most people I know, myself included, care a lot about their image. But why do we care? At the end of my life, I will not look back and wonder how cool someone thought I was, think about when we forgot that important person's name or wish we had won that argument with our spouse. We will, however, look back and consider what impact our lives made, if we loved our family and friends enough, or if our lives brought joy to others.

When our short existence here on earth is put into such blatant terms, I think it becomes clear that we are not as important as we think we are. Our daily troubles will cease to be so daunting, our arguments less pressing, and our worries less consuming. But on the flip side, our relationships will be more meaningful, our laughter more enjoyable, and love more intense.

This picture was taken on I-74 westbound in between Champaign and Bloomington, IL. My wife was laughing and I was happy. And when I die, I don't think I will be worrying about who saw it.

Silly Faces on I-74, Illinois

Homer Spit

I could see how this landmark could be brutal at other times during the year, but at that moment, I couldn't think about the dark side of Homer Spit. The 4 1/2 mile strip of land jutting out into Kachemak Bay was breathtaking. It was more than we could have hoped for when we took the advice of a local Alaskan, "You might want to travel down to Homer. It is pretty down there." I don't know if I have ever witnessed to a bigger understatement.

We had arrived in Anchorage the afternoon before, and after a quick shower at the local university, we followed the advice of the aforementioned local and set out for Homer, AK. But we were unable to make it all the way there without needing to stop and rest. So we pulled over on the side of the road and fell asleep in our cozy Aerostar. In the lower 48, pulling over on the side of the road to sleep may have prompted a visit from the local authorities and a light shining through the window in our eyes, but there really isn't that problem up there. I guess because we were far enough from town that they didn't send the cops around to check on stopped cars. Or they figure that if you are brave enough to risk taking a nap on the side of the road, they don't want to mess with you.

In the morning, we drove a short way to the small town of Homer. It resides on Kachemak Bay nestled amidst picturesque mountains, green hills and a billowing sea. As we crested the last hill before town, we saw a sleepy town waking up to the early morning light, perched on the edge of a breathtaking, but untamed body of water. There weren't many places to go that morning, but the one spot we noticed from the top of the hill was a spit of land running out into the bay.

As we drove the slim strip of rock and earth, we noticed a small campground right on the beach. So we pulled over onto the rock parking lot and noticed a few tents spotting the landscape. We emerged from our own driveable tent to feel the blast of the autumn-like wind blowing off the bay. It would have been incredible to camp on that resolute little spit. That strip of land has seen portions of it covered by the waves and battered by the winds, but still stands, unwilling to give in. And all of this drama set against the backdrop of pristine mountains and clear skies.

We took in the scene as passers-by, unable to spare too much time in our whirlwind journey across the last frontier. We hopped back in our tent, wondering what new campsite we would step out onto next.

From the Back of a Pickup

I had been in Argentina for a couple months by then and we were up in the northern part of the country. We were based out of a rural town and traveled during the day to even more rural towns. The people were always welcoming but, although I spoke Spanish fairly well, I had difficulty understanding their country accents.

On one specific visit, we drove to a town to hand out food and other necessities to its inhabitants. My job was simply to sit in the back of the truck, hand out the supplies and make sure no one took anything. Well it wasn't long before I became the focus of a group of young boys. I was blond, tall, crammed into the back of a truck. Plus, I had a digital camera in my hands, most likely a contraption these children had maybe seen a few times. Their lives were very different from mine. They were clad in hand-me-down clothes, owning maybe few extra sets at home, and the thought of going to a movie theater or a mall was incomprehensible to them.

So, without much else to occupy their attention, they stood at the back of the truck and willingly answered my unspoken request for them to become my photo subjects for a short while. In the end, I was able to take a few photos which they were then able to look at afterwards.

Whenever I look at this photo I think about how it would be easy to look down on them for having so little and being amused by something so simple, but I don't think that way. In the end, they did much more for me than I did for them. Sure, we gave them clothes and food, but I was able to come away humbled by the fact that they live with so little and still have the ability to laugh, while I possess so much and struggle to see the blessing around me.

Under Inspection, Argentina

My Self-Portrait

It is a question as to how you wish others to view you. Because when you make a self-portrait, you have control of everything. How you look, what perspective you show, how creative the shot is, etc. It is no longer simply your image on the photograph portraying your personality, but also the photograph itself. So the image that follows is an attempt at a self-portrait. When I first took it, I don't think I put as much thought into the image as I am now, but I believe it still works.

First of all, it is not framed exactly perfect. The edges of the side view mirror are cut off in some places and the image of me that is in focus, is not in the center, but rather off to one corner. My hair is disheveled by the wind coming through the open window of the car and I have a somewhat matter-of-fact grin on my face. Also there are two perspectives of me, one, a little obscured by the other and out of focus, the other ever-so-slightly distorted by the wide-angled mirror. Granted, this photo does not encompass all of who I am (as rarely any one image can do for anybody), but it does give some insight into who I am and, sometimes, who I want to portray.

If you ask anyone who knows me well, they will tell you I am a little 'not in the center' and bearing imperfections. I enjoy many of the oddities of life and sometimes portray an oddity in and of myself. I enjoy the outdoors and would much rather have my hair somewhat blown about rather than perfectly and neatly combed. I am sometimes honest to a fault and every now and then reveal my lack of tact. The most telling portion of the image is the two images. When someone first meets me, undoubtedly, preconceived notions are formed about who I am, what I might be interested in or into which category of person I might fall. And though some of these impressions might be correct, I like to think there will reach a point in that relationship where I will reveal something about myself they did not quite expect or say something which makes them stop for a moment. I guess, simply put, I have tried to give myself enough depth to provide more than a two dimensional character. And I think this image conveys more than two dimensions.

Being 3-dimensional, Jackson, TN

Eating French

Gaulart & Maliclet is a small cafe at 98 Broad Street in Charleston, SC and would be easy to pass by if you were in a hurry. My wife and I remembered the quaint restaurant from our honeymoon two years previous and enjoyed it enough to dine there again on our 2nd anniversary trip. We walked in, sat down and waited patiently for our waitress to come and take our order, all the while keenly aware of the laid back atmosphere, part of the reason we enjoy it so much. Our meal came out in due time and we casually savored our soups and sandwiches and finished whenever we were done. The food was not over-seasoned, but rather just subtle enough to appreciate the flavors.

Now if this dining scenario seems quite different from what you are used to, it might be because we were dining at a French restaurant. I have learned from my wife, who has spent 6 weeks in France, that the scene I just described is the norm rather than the exception for the French people.

So say what you will about the French, but I would much rather enjoy my meal at my leisure than scarf it down in the fast-food style we do as Americans. Now if only I could remember to slow down whenever I am not on vacation.

Eating French, Charleston, SC

Table 51

In our haste to get out the door I had forgotten to pack the camping chairs. This is not a necessity, but is quite convenient, unless you have a strong desire to sit in the dirt. So, upon our arrival, we were quite relieved to see table #51. It was a nice distance from the fire pit to avoid smoke and there was ample space for camping supplies on its surface. It was exactly what we needed.

Throughout many stays at state parks around our country, I have noticed a decline in the basic care of the state park systems. One source of this issue is funding cutbacks. That leads me into a complaint I have pertaining to the Illinois State Park system. Governor Rod Blagojevich has decided to follow the example of crooked dealings and poor choices laid out for him by previous governors in his call to close state parks around Illinois.

One such park, Kickapoo State Park, is actually bringing in enough money to be entirely self-supported, but is still getting the ax due to dirty politics and irrational thought. The plan, as laid out by the governor's office, is to close the parks, build road blocks at the entrances and have policemen patrol the area. All of this would, ironically enough, cost more than keeping the parks open. Way to go, Rod!

So next time you visit a state park, be sure to take care of it and express your thanks for its existence. Or, if you are not a regular park visitor, head out and see what they have to offer. I think it will be worth you time.

This was taken at Montgomery Bell State Park in Tennessee after a blissful night's sleep under the stars. Thank goodness the Tennessee state government sees fit to waste valuable tax dollars on parks and picnic tables.

Table 51, Montgomery Bell State Park, TN

And All With a Leaf

In Illinois, autumn is much more pronounced than in Tennessee. Growing up, I was used to trick-or-treating while light snow flurries drifted down from the pitch black sky. Nashville does not experience such a drastic declaration of my favorite season. In fact the passing of the first day of autumn (September 22, as marked by the autumnal equinox) was as un-noteworthy as a day could be. I felt no chill in the air, no insatiable desire to buy spiced apple cider, nor a sudden urge for pumpkin carving.

The herald of autumn was nowhere to be found. No signs nor exclamations of joy were proclaimed. The earth was preparing to enter into a deep and restful sleep without the usual pomp and circumstance. And upon noticing this, I was deeply saddened.

But wait...I saw something, something whispering instead of declaring. A lone, fire-red leaf lying on the grassy carpet below. Though it was alone, it was still doing its duty to share the wonderful news of autumn's arrival. And I was no longer saddened.

The photo below was taken the morning after my wife and I camped at Montgomery Bell State Park just north of I-40, west of Nashville, TN. I could almost smell the hot apple cider.

18mm, f/3.6, 1/400 sec
The Lone Herald, Montgomery Bell State Park, TN